


Feelings, nothing more than feelings...

by sksdwrld



Series: Planck Constant [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something happens. Micah emotes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feelings, nothing more than feelings...

Most nights, Joe was content to stay at home with Micah, enjoying the quiet, easy silence that often stretched between them but sometimes, he needed more. The raucous laughter of the bar, his friends who didn't seem to value the same things that he did, the booze that changed him in ways that shouldn't matter to Micah, but bothered him nevertheless.

He'd come back to the little apartment above the shop drunk before and how he managed the motorcycle in that state was always concerning but Micah tried to put it out of mind each time that Joe, his _master_ , went out. Joe was a grown man who was in the habit of making sound decisions and knew himself better than anyone else. Slaves weren't supposed to worry about anything other than how to please the one that owned them, so Micah concerned himself with keeping the house clean, the meals tasty, his body pleasing both appearance and function.

Never mind that Joe made it easy to serve him with his incredibly low standards, his garbage-disposal-like stomach, the way he seemed to care less that Micah ( who had more than a decade on him) had baggy skin around his aching knees, a small protuberance in his lower belly, deep set widow's peaks, or that sometimes he couldn't come again until hours later. Joe himself was far from perfect, often moody, surly and sarcastic, dirty, smelly and unkempt, but in Micah's eyes, he might as well have been God. Not just because he was _a_ master but because he knew how _to_ Master. Micah would have done anything for him. Followed him to the ends of the earth. He _loved_ Joe. Loved belonging to him. Loved being with him and all that the position encompassed.

Which is exactly was why it was so hurtful when he brought _her_ home. The giggly, too-loud, redhead wearing too much perfume and not enough leather...

It was late when Micah heard the front door bang open and shut and even though he'd been snuggled in a warm cocoon of blankets, he'd gotten up to take care of his master. Only that Joe wasn't alone. He could hear breathless laughter and furniture shifting from the hallway and by the time he made it to the door, Joe was already wedged between her thighs. Her heels were on the coffee table and she giggled, squealed, and pulled Joe's hair.

Micah felt like he was standing in a frigid water stream and for a moment, he could only stand there and stare. But then he retreated to the bedroom, only to worry whether or not that would be the next stop for them. Panicking, he returned briefly and then hid in the bathroom. The apartment was too small and he couldn't bring himself to walk past them.

Betrayal. It felt like betrayal and even though Micah knew he wasn't entitled to that feeling, he couldn't help it. It wasn't as though they were lovers. Partners. Joe was a Freeman. Micah was merely a possession. It didn't stop him from weeping like a person wronged and hours later, when the Joe came to use the facilities, Micah put his head in his arms and pretended he couldn't hear Joe's platitudes or the door rattling on the hinges.


End file.
